Random Waltz
by Myst Knight
Summary: After an incident in the Dorter slums, Ramza and Alma talk about the role Alma plays in his army, and in his heart. Ramza/Alma
1. Random Waltz

**Random Waltz**

 **A Final Fantasy Tactics Fanfiction by Myst Knight**

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Disclaimer: Final Fantasy Tactics is owned by Square Enix. I write this without consent, and am making no money off of it.

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 _ _This story is rated T for Ideologically sensitive material (forbidden sibling romance), violence, and some sexuality. For OLDER TEEN AND UP.__

No offense intended by the controversial content (and as always, don't try this at home!)

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Dorter Trade City, Middle Ages

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In the small towns of Ivalice, life had regained a semblance of normalcy since the Death Corps rebellion almost two years ago. People of all walks in life went about their business between the short stocky buildings and down the claustrophobic alleyways. But scars of war ran deep, and the relationship between the old nobility and disgruntled peasants remained as strained as ever. It had actually become a sort of competition for the two social classes, with one always trying to come out ahead of the other, in their own exclusive ways.

Today, two peasants of an unsavory persuasion were revenging themselves upon the nobility for slights envisioned. But their sinister motives went far beyond even the most frustrated of citizens, and ugly hearts suited neither social class.

"Stop it! Leave me alone!" Alma cried, trying to wrench her wrist free of the gangly man that had ensnared it.

"Come on, cutie, don't be like that." The man grinned, more so at his burly counterpart beside him than the girl he was holding. "We followed you all the way from downtown just to meet you."

"A student from the Igros Aristocratic Academy is a rare treat for us down here in Dorter," the burly man agreed with a leer, moving closer to her. "Why don't you play a few schoolyard games with us?"

She winced at his intrusion, his ragged breath hot on her neck like a branding iron for Chocobo.

The young Beoulve had been cornered by the two ruffians at an abandoned booth just south of the Dorter marketplace, while her brother Ramza was gathering war supplies at the general store two blocks down. Alma has not considered that her proper dress would make her a target, and had carelessly begun perusing the stalls close to the slums. With police patrols on the other side of town, and the booth hiding her from view of the main road, she felt Ramza's absence more keenly than ever. The men were collapsing against her like a clap-trap, and she fought the urge to panic.

"You nobles always think you're too good for us regular citizens," the skinny man hissed, a distinct growl permeating his former joviality. He lifted the hem of Alma's skirt to treat himself to a look at her bare legs and white panties. "Why are men as fit as us stuck with scullery maids and whores, while wrinkly old fossils from the aristocracy see fit to ravish any young tart they wish?"

"No!" Alma shrieked, tugging back at her hem. "Let go of that!" Her blush erupted two-fold, the pristine nature of her drawers somehow making her feel that much more indecent. The two men only laughed at her struggles, keeping her pinned against the side of the stall.

They sniggered once again, their hands moving lower. (Ramza, help me!) she thought fervently, as the hoodlums prepared to touch her body.

"Alma, are these men bothering you?" ...and a strong voice broke into their scuffle, alerting all parties to a new arrival turning the corner.

"Brother Ramza!" Alma yelped, straining against the mens' grasp.

From the densely packed crowds in the marketplace, Ramza Beoulve was making a beeline for the small group, advancing upon them at a rapid pace. The two ruffians gawked dumbly, perhaps at the contrast between the young lad's fair skin and his rugged, mercenary duds. Alma made use of this distraction to kick hard at the skinny man's shin, causing him to howl in pain. Breaking free of his grip, she quickly darted behind her brother, holding her skirt tightly against her rear.

"What the hell're you doin', kid?" the skinny man grunted, once again making a move towards Alma. "You better get out of here before..."

BRAK! a rock-hard fist collided against the bridge of his nose, crushing bone and cartilage and sending him sprawling on his back. The burly man caught a sudden strain of fear as he watched his friend waddle about on the cold earth, holding his face as blood dribbled under his hand and down his chin. They looked back towards Ramza, who stood before them like a guardian angel.

"Get lost!" the boy growled, his soft features contorted in a furious scowl. "Never come near my sister again."

They dawdled a bit more, panicking with indecision. Then, with a bluster of grumbling, they scampered off towards their rat cellars deep within the slums, leaving the two alone by the abandoned stall.

Ramza watched them go, his lip twisting with barely restrained disgust. After another moment of uneasy silence, Alma sidled over to him, straightening the pink bow binding her ponytail. "I'm sorry to have worried you, brother," she apologized, giving him a sheepish smile as she smoothed her skirt self-consciously.

"Alma, please be more careful around the slums," he chided the girl, though his concern for her was overriding any sternness in his tone. "You don't know of the kind of people that loiter around this place like I do."

"Thank you for stopping those men," she said, cutting off his lecture with a gentle gaze.

Ramza halted for a moment, looking like he had more to add. But he just nodded and strode towards the marketplace, with Alma following after him.

Together, the two siblings left the stall to mix in with the masses of people. The townsfolk surrounding them formed a uncomfortable cocoon, squeezing them against each other at they struggled onward through the crowd. Alma felt the warmth of the boy's body, his wiry muscles like stone and his bare shoulders like mountain ledges. She could not help but recognize Ramza as a man in this instance, and blushed slightly at the close contact.

Alma stole a glance around the marketplace to see if Ramza's comrades or anyone she knew from Igros happened to be in the area. Finding no one of the sort, she took a quick breath, and looped her arm around her brother's biceps. Ramza stiffened a bit at the intimate touch, but soon relaxed and offered his arm to the girl in a gesture of forgotten gentry. They continued on, looking for all the world like a young high-society couple arranged by their parents, and no one was the wiser.

It had only been a scant few days since Alma and her brother decided to explore the mutual attraction they had developed for each other since the Lion War had shown them who and what was truly important. Ramza was still a bit reluctant to initiate any romantic contact of his own, sticking mostly to familiar patterns of brother and sister conduct, but never did he deny that there was more that filial love between them. For argument's sake, Alma had pointed out to him that marriage within the immediate family was quite common for noble bloodlines, although she admitted the closest blood relation between legitimate spouses within the past one hundred years was that of a half-brother and half sister, ever since the divine prophet Ajora had appeared and proclaimed that incest between full siblings was immoral. Still, their views on religion had soured due to the emergence of Zodiac Knights as demon spawn, so neither of them truly knew what to feel about this.

She couldn't help but mention that their Zodiac signs lined up quite well. Considering their collection of Zodiac stones, such a notion was quite humorous to the both of them.

"Did you find all the supplies you needed?" Alma asked Ramza, as a means of beginning conversation.

"Yes," he answered simply, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. "I purchased a new sword for Agrias that I think will suit her."

"And did you bring me any flowers from the florist?" she hinted, moving a bit closer to him.

"Flowers?" Here, Ramza goggled at her as if he were a Chocobo under a poacher's gun. "I didn't think of it, and I don't know if we have money to spare for that..."

"Brother, I'm teasing you." She smiled gently, stopping him before he could get too flustered.

Ramza remained wide-eyed for a moment more, then turned away and coughed into his fist, obviously trying to regain his composure. The girl stifled a laugh at his demeanor; it was fun knocking him down a peg or two.

Alma then stared into the crowd, her eyes sorting through the men and women as her heart turned to more serious matters. "It's things like this make me wish I had been born male, so I would be able to walk the streets alone," she sighed, wistfully pulling at her dust cloak. "I hate burdening you, Ramza."

The blond boy's placid expression dissipated into a frown; the same frown he always wore whenever she brought this subject up. Alma could feel indignation welling up within her chest, and she suspected she would again have to bicker with Ramza over her ideas, an aspect of their relationship she wished could be put to rest. Her brother was the most perfect man she knew, but he was still her brother, so she supposed that his overprotective regard would never change. "Are you talking about dirtying your hands with war again?" he questioned her. "I still wish I could talk you out of this."

"Maybe it's not a woman's place to fight in wars," she began with a huff, her fingers reflexively digging into Ramza's skin. "But is it a woman's place to be tormented on her trips to the market?"

"That's not it." Ramza shook his head, his bangs lofting about on his forehead. "Alma, I already promised I'd teach you everything you need to know so that you won't be hassled on the streets and can live how you want," he clarified. "But I never want you to forget the woman you are."

"What are you saying?" Alma looked at her brother with confusion.

Ramza met her eyes again, and took a deep breath. "I'm saying you are beautiful, my dear sister," he told her. "Those men may try and abuse you for it, but I truly appreciate this about you."

Alma reared back from him in shock. "That's the first time you've ever said something like that to me." she spoke quietly, and a glow of pure pleasure arose on her cheeks.

Ramza's own blush caught up with the rest of his face, and he was taken over by a boyish bout of skittishness. "Well, uh, I figured that if we are, er...seeing each other in a romantic way, I should behave as a gentleman and um..."

"Ramza, don't ruin it," the girl whispered, her finger drifting over his lips. "Hush."

Ramza stared cross-eyed at her finger under his nose, his mouth frozen in an unfinished statement. But he took the cue from his younger sibling, and said no more about it.

A spark of inspiration gleamed in Ramza's eye. Deftly, he removed Alma's fingers from his arm as to free it. As she blinked in confusion, he encircled the girl's waist, his hand resting just a few centimeters shy of her hip. Alma's heart leapt up to her throat as her brother pulled her snugly to his side, almost crushing her against him.

"If they see us like this, they won't bother you," he explained, his cheeks reddening in spite of himself. "Stay close to me."

Alma beamed, throwing her own arm around Ramza. "Always, brother," she laughed gaily.

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Ramza was truly getting more and more romantic with her. In this day and age where women were casually dismissed, being female was a reason to be wary in of itself. But if she could be a woman for her brother, she would cherish her femininity for as long as she lived. Even with all the warts of war-torn Ivalice, Alma dearly loved the opportunities she had been offered, and thus loved her country.

The two walked a little ways into the shadow of a cluster of buildings. "We're here," Ramza announced, his voice echoing against the dreary dwellings hanging over them.

Alma took a look around. The place Ramza had led them to appeared to be nothing more than a vacant lot in the poor part of town. She recognized it from her prior trips to Dorter as a area populated mainly by struggling families trying to make ends meet, so it was safer than the slums. However, it was night, and they really had no business being here. "What is this place, Brother Ramza?" she asked, her arm still around his back.

The boy broke away from her and took a few steps forward, then turned to face her. "This is the site of your training, Alma," he explained, his voice thick with commanding energy.

"You're going to fight me?" Alma felt shocked at this sudden change in attitude. "I thought you didn't like hitting girls, brother."

"Not what I had in mind," he corrected her, reaching out to her with an ironic smile. "May I have this dance?"

The girl's heart went pitter-patter in her chest, as he had surprised her for the second time that day. But she smiled in turn, nodding to him. "Yes, Ramza." was all she said. They stepped back from each other and bowed, with Ramza's hand across his chest, and Alma spreading the pleats of her skirt in a demure curtsy. Neither of them could keep the embarrassed smiles from their faces.

Quickly, Ramza pulled Alma to him, and the girl let out a short gasp as she bumped up against his chest. Their hands scrambled for the proper positions, but soon their fingers were interlocked, their arms around each other. With Ramza keeping her steady, he began to lead her into the first few steps. Figuring he had a waltz in mind, she followed suit, and all tension fled her.

Ramza and Alma were now whirling about the vacant lot like hand-rafted figures in a music box. Illuminated by dimly lit street lamps, they appeared as two glowing angels, brighter than any of the knights from the scriptures. Maybe it was their familiarity with each other, or the very heredity they both shared, but they had both fallen into a easy rhythm. Their legs stepped back and forth between each other, and they nether stumbled nor trodded on each other's toes.

Alma giggled as she twirled under Ramza's hand, her skirt fanning out around her. "Brother...!" She beamed, delighted with the boy's manner towards her. In an continuation of that manner, the boy pulled his partner close to his chest, Alma's nostrils picking up his masculine scent. The girl just sighed, as she swayed in time with an imaginary tune.

As they continued to dance, Alma made a silent resolution to herself. She would continue to persuade her brother to teach her to fight, and she would also remember the gentle arts she was taught in preparatory school. After all, dancing was the legacy their parents had left them. They would remember themselves both as brother and sister, and man and woman.

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'Fin'

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Notes: Since you can choose the month in which Ramza was born in FFT, there's no reason why he can't have a compatible Zodiac sign with Alma. Though I believe Ramza's default sign is Aries, which bodes well for Alma's Leo. In any case, ha, ha, ha, ha ha.

This fanfic is compliant with the original American script for the PSX version of Final Fantasy Tactics. Long live PSX Final Fantasy Tactics!


	2. Jitterbug

**Random Waltz - Jitterbug**

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The siren of cicadas emanated from the forest just outside the walls of the city, bouncing about the buildings like a Goug city gunfight. The town plaza was almost empty, yet a few dissolute travelers still camped out on the corners, and then there were the sibling nobles who had chosen the abandoned lot for an impromptu waltz. A cone of light shone down on the pair from the looming streetlamp, enveloping them in a glow like fire and mist. It was a theater spotlight for the two alone, a performance art show for anyone lucky enough to raise their eyes to their radiance.

Alma's smile shone through the night as Ramza led her though the twists and turns, her skirt swishing about her calves. Her hand grazed the nape of his neck, and she could feel his fingers alight on her hip, causing her to blush at how intimately they danced together. Their hands remained intertwined, and Ramza squeezed them together as he gazed confidently at her, imparting all the strength that his knight training had given him. The face that Alma knew so well seemed to glow in the gentle light, giving her brother the appearance of a glorious angel straight from the gospels.

He must've noticed her change in mood, for he tilted his head to look at her more carefully. "Something wrong, Alma?" Ramza asked, a flash of familial concern drifting into his gentlemanly demeanor.

Alma reddened up again, acutely aware of Ramza's warm breath upon her in the cool evening. Illogically, she wondered if he was privy to any of her thoughts at that particular moment. "Brother, I was wondering if we might try something more robust," she said instead, offering up a sheepish smile as she let her mind wander to all the things she might do with Ramza on a romantic evening.

"Are you sure you're up to that?" he prodded her, though his hand was delicate as he drew back her bangs. "You've had a harrowing experience recently, and I don't want to exhaust you."

"I'm okay now." Alma gave him a comforting smile. "Only, I thought...perhaps...yes!" The girl's eyes widened with new-found inspiration, and she nearly stepped on Ramza's toes in her zeal. "Brother, let's dance as they do in Dorter! A dance of the common-folk, for the lives we now live."

Ramza's eyes widened as well, only his were tinted with amusement. "A bit daring for my dear little sister?" he rejoined with a smirk, turning her about in a gentle twirl. "Haven't the most scandalous of Dancers hailed from Dorter?"

"Oh, don't tease!" she hissed, pinching his cheek even as she held him close. "I was thinking of dear Delita and Teta, how they enjoyed themselves so much more than the Igros nobles."

Bringing up memories of the Hyral siblings with her brother was a gambit, as the tragedy at Fort Zeakden clouded them still. But Ramza's eyes held clouds of a different sort, and Alma knew he remembered what she remembered, a time before Zeakden, and even his own enlistment in the army. A time when dinner and dancing filled the halls of Igros, a celebration of the end of the Fifty Years War. When girls like Alma shone like shooting stars, but none shone more brightly than Teta...

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It was a cool October night some four years ago, when Ramza and Alma were living in the Igros province with their little family still intact. A grand ball on the castle veranda had been rained out, leaving the prominent families to retreat back to their manors for a game of baccarat in lieu of the waltz. The adopted wards of the Beoulves, Delita and Teta Hyral, were not so deterred, and persuaded Ramza and Alma to dance with them in the abandoned hall while the rest of the castle slept. After all, Delita had promised Tera her first dance on a harvest moon, to show her off as a woman worthy of even the most discerning noble.

"There is none that could compare to you on this night, my sister," Delita was saying as he delicately pinned a flower to his sister's dress.

"Delita, you flatter me!" Teta's pale complexion sported a rosy red flush as she averted her eyes from his intense gaze. "I only wanted a dance, not to be pampered so!"

"A brother's job is to take care of his sister first, before any lass." Pulling aside a lock of coal-black hair, Delita kissed her on the cheek as the young girl giggled. As Delita continued to prep his sister for her dance (even combing her hair for her), Tera stood straight with nary a fidget, clearly enjoying her brother's attentions. Sitting aside each other at the hearth, Alma turned to Ramza with an expectant look, her eyes glistening with good humor as she arranged her skirt absently on the ledge. Ramza blushed mightily, but scooted closer and gave her a kiss as well, drawing a slightly smug expression from her.

A moment later, the two couples were dancing across the Beoulve hall; Delita with Teta, and Ramza with Alma. The girls' purple and pink skirts were swaying like bells in a church steeple, their brothers' dull duds paling in comparison. Only, Teta's skirt was more like a flag in a autumn gale, as her brother took her through a routine much more invigorating than that of the Beoulves. Her petticoats were flying all over the place as Delita twirled her, pulled her under his legs, turned her upside down, in a manner reminiscent of the servant class at Dorter Trade City.

Alma gasped as she stared over Ramza's shoulder at the cavorting duo, just as Teta finished a particularly daring twirl that saw her hair flashing about like midnight flame. The once-demure young lass was now bursting with joy, the happiest Alma had ever seen her friend outside of choir. While swinging his sister to one side, Delita took a moment to shoot Ramza a devious glance. "Well, Ramza?" he taunted with Teta in tow. "Are you a man or mouse? Defeat us, if you can!"

To Alma's surprise, the blond boy scoffed at this. "A Beoulve never turns down a challenge!" Ramza declared, pulling his partner close to him. "Come on, Alma."

"Whaaa!" The girl gasped as she was carried away on her brother's whimsy. "Brother Ramza...!"

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The wind blew briskly, sending the siblings' golden locks asunder as they basked in their mutual memories of a far gone Eden. After the death of Teta and the subsequent fallout, Alma was glad that Ramza could still smile at the other legacy the Hyrals had left for them At the time, her brother's pride couldn't let Delita outpace him, not if he were to live up to his father. But truly, it was his friend's renegade nature and easy love with his sister that Ramza wished to emulate back then; Alma knew this to be so.

Ramza edged closer and secured his hold on Alma's flank. "Shall we step to it, Alma?"

She grinned and nodded. "Verily, brother!"

Ramza took a moment to position them both, then whirled Alma about in a devilish spin, sending her skirt sailing almost to her waist. Alma gasped at the young man's daring drive (and the rush of air along her thighs), but soon felt nothing but joy as her brother flung her up, down, and around him in an explosion of color and movement. Her ponytail whipped around her neck as Ramza drew her close, then back out again, the periodic moments of contact making the young maiden that much more excited. A rush of adrenaline flowed through her, a releasing of spirit that the rich old families at Igros could hardly understand.

Ramza continued to spin Alma like a carnival ride, her pink skirt and white petticoats flying around like paint on a child's canvas. The girl flitted around deftly and kept up with the dance step-by-step, evidently encouraging the young man to try something more daring. As Delita once did, Ramza pulled his sister upside down in a flip over his back, her petticoats opening up like a flower blossom in early spring. Alma never lost her cool, however, and landed feet-first in a rustle of skirts, spinning around once more as she fell into her brother's arms for a finishing pose.

The two remained like this a minute more, then Ramza swiftly brought Alma back to her feet again. Alma was grinning widely as she wiped the sweat from her brow, her once pristine locks now a frazzled mop-top. She stared at Ramza to find a similar expression on his face, only his was tinged with the passion of a knight that had found his lady love at long last. Alma felt her heart jump as he pulled her against him, and instinctively closed her eyes as Ramza leaned forward to kiss her.

(CLAP CLAP CLAP!) The singular applause of an observant townie broke the moment between Ramza and Alma, and they separated from each other to stare at their audience. The old man had been watching them for quite some time, his messy beard offset only by his thick eyebrows. Those brows were currently raised in awe, and he grinned a snaggle-toothed grin in appreciation for the dancing duo. His smile was exceptionally wide for Alma herself, perhaps remembering the winsome women from years long past.

"Well, I'll be!" he crowed, continuing to clap. "What a delightful act! Handsomely done!"

Ramza smiled proudly. "This is how the common-folk do it," he asserted, securing his grip on his beloved sister.

"And the young lady's frillies were quite the show, too!" the old man added, winking and adding an "OK" sign for good measure.

Alma's face erupted in a hot flush, as she realized that the curious codger would've had quite the view of her knickers with her skirt tossing about. Ramza soon came to her rescue, and gave the old man a flick to the forehead. "This is also how the common-folk do it," he warned him, as the old man stammered his apologies.

Alma's expression softened with affection. "Truly, you're _uncommon_ , Brother Ramza."


End file.
